Come on Baby, Light My Fire

This title is for Miss Cake, because I know how much she loves the Doors.

Tonight, Chez Gateau, we inaugurated the grilling season. It was a stunningly gorgeous day, finally, after a couple weeks of rainy cold spring misery. Young Master Gateau requested that we barbecue, and he was very insistent that we have corn on the cob, and that it be cooked in a pot of boiling water, not in the obnoxious way his mother likes to do it, which is on the grill in its husk, and served with a mixture of olive oil, lime juice, and hot chilis. He is a butter and salt man, dammit, and he would not be thwarted.

I picked up some corn, figuring it would be barely a step above cattle feed, but to my surprise it was sweet and tender. No doubt Whole Paycheck is trucking this stuff in from Florida and bunring insane amounts of fossil fuels to bring this to their "natural and organic" produce sections, but WHATEVER. Along with that we had some good beef hotdogs on buns and some burgers made from the beef I bought with Mr. X. I also had a pint of some vegetable-and-grain salad with pesto vinaigrette from the store that was pretty good. Because I tended the grill, the burgers were a perfect medium-rare (Mr. Gateau tends to overcook, the poor dear), and we had them with crumbled blue cheese and a little ketchup. I think this will be this summer's obsession.

We started out with guacamole and chips and some marinated olives (Y.M.G. had mozzarella balls, which is one of the few things he eats), with a Brooklyn Lager for Mr. G. and a pink grapefruit margarita for me. I'd had my first beer of the day earlier, I must admit. And it may not be my last.